


Hearts Be Light

by callsigns (sparklebitca)



Category: Popslash
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-22
Updated: 2011-04-22
Packaged: 2017-10-18 11:57:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/188660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklebitca/pseuds/callsigns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>fluffy Christmas time</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hearts Be Light

**Author's Note:**

> written for DWNOGA 2005

JC blinked slowly and breathed even slower, regulating his heartbeat without even thinking about it. His chest was still thudding; it'd be several minutes before the blooming heat of relaxation engulfed him and his limbs became too heavy to move without real effort.

Justin, on the other hand, turned into happy dead weight right away, so JC took advantage of the adrenaline still coursing through him to reach over and pull Justin over to him. Justin's skin was warm and damp, the muscles of his arms still taut from exertion, and JC let himself grip Justin's biceps a little harder than he normally would, in order to lift Justin so he was partially draped over JC's chest.

"Hey," Justin protested, "don't damage the goods."

"Yeah, okay," agreed JC. "You're probably damaged enough for one night."

"Whatever, I'll damage  _you_." But Justin didn't move. His mouth stayed open and slack, pressed against JC's shoulder. JC flicked him gently on the forehead.

"Hey, don't fall asleep yet."

"Why not?"

"Because it's not time to sleep yet. And you're going to miss Santa."

"I been missing Santa my whole life, I can miss him one more year."

 _No presents_ , JC had told Justin over the phone a month ago, but as usual, Justin had disregarded him with extravagantly deceptive flair. The boxes had started arriving thirteen days before Christmas, each one progressively bigger and bigger, each containing an object more esoteric and beautiful than the last - a tiny Moroccan spice-box; a hand-made wand in true Harry Potter fashion, boasting a peacock-feather core; an insane new keyboard with mixing software that JC'd been eyeing for months and sort of hoping Jive would spring for, and so on.

There had been no doubt in JC's mind what would be in the last, biggest box, but he had still hand-trucked it inside and shook it remorselessly until Justin had hollered to be let out or he was going to puke.

JC usually savored the unwrapping of presents, untying the ribbons and folding the paper, saving it for later. He had done the same when unwrapping Justin, right there in his living room, all the lights haloing Justin's smile and shining off his arms, his chest, the solid curves of his waist. JC had kissed along every revealed inch, not wanting to wait but making himself go slow.

JC had only spent a handful of actual Christmases with Justin, and this was the first one alone and together, really together.

"If I don't get to sleep, you don't either." Justin yanked at the sheets, arranging them around himself, letting his feet poke out off the side of the bed. They were going to get real cold real fast, but JC didn't say anything. "Were you gonna go to church or anything? Midnight service?"

"If I was home, yeah."

"You even got a church out here?"

"Like you do."

Justin snuffled agreement. Church was for home, for family, and when JC flew out the day after Christmas, they might all go the next Sunday. But he felt reverential enough right now.

"So no plans," said Justin.

"I was planning to get a glass of water in about fifteen minutes."

"Big planner."

"I don't have to get you one."

"Aw, bitch." Justin licked at the edge of JC's jaw, nipping at it lightly. "Weren't you planning anything else? Anything  _else_?" He wriggled hopefully and JC grinned. Eager, transparent Justin, wanting to please.

" _I_  wasn't. Maybe  _Santa_  was. Maybe Santa got you some kick-ass Vans for Christmas, but you have to wait for your presents til tomorrow, just like everyone else."

"Not  _everyone_  else, you got  _yours_  right away."

"That wasn't just a present for me," JC admonished gently.

"Yeah, no, it wasn't." Justin ran a finger along JC's cheek. "Dude, you're talking about Santa a lot more than usual. You having some kind of reversion or something? Back to happier days?"

"No such thing. I just like thinking about hot, fat guys. Beards turn me on." He reached under Justin's chin and tugged at the scratchy curls. "Even nasty-ass beards like this."

"You love my manly beard. Say it, you love it." Justin licked again at JC's jaw, flicking his tongue up towards JC's earlobe. "You love it," he whispered, and JC shuddered despite himself.

"We got all night, J."

"God, yeah." Justin sighed deeply and settled back down within the warm circle of JC's arm. "When did a night become a luxury, man? Life is so fucking weird. You're a kid one day, and then you're busy as hell, working all the damn time, then you blink when some dude takes a picture of you out shopping, and you realize that you're twenty-four and your life just ain't stopping."

"Some of us aren't twenty-four anymore," JC teased. Then, quieter, "Did you want it to? Stop?"

"No, no, god. I don't know. I'm happy."

Justin was right, of course. Life went by way too fast, too fast to catalogue everything you did and wanted and hoped for and you just had to pray that what you ended up with was something you could live with.

JC thought he could live forever with everything he had right now. "You wanna come home with me?" he asked suddenly. "To my folks' house, I mean?"

"You wanna come home with  _me_?"

"Yeah, okay," JC sighed. That wasn't going to happen; he shouldn't have suggested it. It was so easy to forget.

"Hey, C, hey." Justin lifted his head. "Know what, don't do that, don't get all like that. We're good for tonight, we're good for tomorrow, we got pancakes tomorrow, right?" Justin's breakfasts, like pots of gold, like silver linings, where happy little bluebirds flew.

"You want pancakes, you got pancakes," JC agreed. "I'm glad it doesn't take much to make you happy."

"Not much," Justin smiled. "Also, know what? Tell me a story."

JC snorted.

"Seriously."

"Seriously, okay. How about the story of JC and His Amazing Conquest of the Second Quarter? It's really inspirational; it's got a great message."

Cold feet pushed insistently between JC's calves; he winced, laughing, and shoved at Justin's chest. Justin only grumbled and shifted closer, tugging JC's arm back up and over his shoulders. "A bedtime story," he muttered into JC's neck, "with a happy ending. Come on, tell me one."

"I thought we weren't going to go to sleep yet. And I had all those getting-water plans."

"Your plans always suck."

"Thought you loved those."

JC had always thought that Justin would be pliable after sex, warm and sprawled-out and agreeable, the way he was after a good meal. If he had known how demanding Justin could be even  _after_  getting his dick sucked - well, okay, it probably wouldn't have made much of a difference.

To be honest, back then, he had probably thought way too much about what Justin would be like after sex. And during sex, definitely during sex, definitely what Justin's voice would sound like, how it would probably roll like honeyed gravel down Justin's register, low and toe-curling. Also, he'd wondered what Justin's body would look like, if his fluid hips would stay graceful and syncopated, or if JC could force them into a frantic, rhythmless beat, driven by more than song. He'd wondered what Justin's hands would do, if they'd grip his shoulders and drag him down or if they'd flatten on the bed and flex helplessly against the sheets. Would he be submissive, ducking his head and gasping in shock when JC reached between his legs? Would he want to dominate, want to wrestle for control, his arms binding JC's chest and his thighs caging JC's movements?

Would he kiss like he'd never wanted anything else so badly? That was what JC had wondered about the most, because JC had been afraid that given the chance to kiss Justin, that's exactly how he would kiss him. Did Justin wonder about these things, he had wondered, and he had found himself breathless at the thought.

He had even thought about what Justin would be like before sex, how his jokes would sound with spicy innuendo behind them, how his legs would cross and re-cross, trying to draw JC's attention. He'd always had JC's attention, though, and the day that he had figured that out was still a better memory than any single dropping, than any video retirement.

It had been so simple. JC had been looking at Justin as usual, just looking at him, and Justin had been laughing at something on the TV. And then he had looked back at JC. And that had been that. It should have been complicated. It should have had pining and tears and JC fucking everyone else because he couldn't have Justin. It should have had bitterness and longing, something sweeping, all-consuming. But it had been so simple in the end, no great drama or tragedy. It had just been JC and Justin, JC first and Justin second, just realizing. That had been all.

"This is what's happening: you're telling me a story, then you're getting some water,  _then_ we're ordering some Chinese and fucking before it gets here,  _then_  we're getting water together and watching It's A Wonderful Life and eating moo shu naked. But I want a happy ending first."

"A happy ending," JC repeated. "You sure don't want to hear about the second quarter?"

Justin's hand found its way onto JC's hip and rested there, just holding the curve in his palm like JC was something precious. "A bedtime story," he repeated, and JC traced the planes of Justin's shoulder softly with his fingertips.

"A story, okay. Don't fall asleep though."

"Just tell me."

JC had a hundred stories, things that Justin hadn't heard about in detail, things that had happened with Chris last Thanksgiving, or with Lance at Shane West's birthday, or with Joey at that waffle place. He had stories about his friends, their small triumphs at their jobs. He had stories about his family, about Heather's internship, about Tyler getting so drunk he forgot where he parked and had accidentally called their father instead of JC, about his mom's promotion. He had a hundred more stories, about where he was taking Justin next summer, about his tentative plans to start them back on the road to recording with the other guys again. He had stories about the past and stories about the future. But the best story he knew -

"If you really want a happy ending, you know what I'm going to tell," JC said.

"I know. But I want to hear it anyway."

"It doesn't even have an ending yet, really."

"Maybe not, not yet," Justin said, shaking JC slightly by his hip.

"You want to hear it anyway though?"

"Yeah, I want to hear it anyway. It's gonna end happy."

So JC told him.


End file.
